


Little Things

by StolenMidnightKisses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 19:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenMidnightKisses/pseuds/StolenMidnightKisses
Summary: Sometimes, it's the little things that matter most. Not a groundbreaking revelation nor an overdramatized proclamation of love, but the little things, the soft falling for one another, until you can't remember a time when it wasn't like this at all.





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago on @destielmybae (Tumblr), and finally decided to post it here! Enjoy!

It was little things. The way that Castiel always sought Dean when in any type of pain. The way Dean stopped complaining about chick-flick moments and simply provided comfort, no matter how annoyed he was with Castiel himself. The way when Castiel lost his grace, he locked himself in his Bunker room for days, and only Dean was allowed in, and only Dean could console him. And after days of pushing and shouting and screaming with rage at how unfair it all was, he finally broke down, and Dean was there: a shoulder to cry on. A brother at arms. Someone who could hug him without saying that it will be alright, but saying that it won’t, but the pain would be buried by different memories that they would create. Together. And like that, Dean became a little something more.

It was little things, the way Dean made it his personal challenge to make sure Castiel could survive in the human world. The way that Dean taught him essential skills, like how to hustle and how to play a mean game of pool. How to throw down shots like a pro and how to lie, cheat and steal. But Dean never taught him how to pick up girls, only glaring at Sam when he mentioned it. And that was left at that.

It was little things. The way that Dean brought him breakfast in bed and his own cassette player. The way Dean immediately knew if it was pancakes drenched in syrup and black coffee day or a BLT burger and milkshake day. The way that Dean brought Cas a photo album for Christmas, so that memories could be preserved forever instead of in Cas’ increasingly forgetful mind, where all memories were no more crystal clear but faded with time.

It was little things, the way that during a hunt Dean would brush his shoulder with Cas’, silently saying that it was alright, that they would live, that it was almost over. The way that during a poltergeist attack, Dean grabbed his hand and did not let go. How when they got into the Impala, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand again. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither of them let go. And with that, Dean started to become a lot more.

It was little things, the way Dean taught him how to shave when Cas said enough to caveman beards and nicked faces. The way that even when Dean held a blade to his face, Castiel trusted him implicitly. How with each whispered instruction, the air tickled his earlobe, caressed his cheek and Cas felt himself falling all over again. But this time, he was not afraid.

It was little things, the way Castiel made apple pie for Dean on his birthday, even though Dean had vehemently told both Sam and Cas the day before that the next day was going to be a perfectly normal one. The way that when Dean came into the kitchen, he paused mid-yawn and just stared at both Castiel and the pie, eyes flickering back and forth. The way Dean surged forward and hugged him, with them not saying anything, but simply being, absorbing the moment to the fullest. The way they held on to each other until Sam stumbled in- much longer than a normal hug should last. And how, at the breakfast table, when they are the pie, Dean shyly looked up at Cas from under his lashes, gaze open and trusting. The way their knees brushed under the table. The way Dean grasped Cas’ hand between their chairs and did not let go.

It was little things that had led them to this moment, curled up on the couch, Star Trek playing on ignored in the background as Cas turned his head and kissed Dean, lips moving softly in tandem, conveying promises and platitudes and thanks and love.

It was little things, but perhaps it was those little things that mattered the most.


End file.
